


After Party

by idyll



Series: Not a Pretty Girl [15]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: 14valentines, F/M, cis!girl Bob, cis!girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-13
Updated: 2008-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray sends Bob a text, even though they're sitting five feet from each other on the bus. <i>party at tbs. u in?</i> (Girl!Bob)</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Party

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/profile)[**14valentines**](http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/) [Day 13 - Arts and Athletics](http://community.livejournal.com/14valentines/106640.html)

A few weeks into Projekt Revolution, Ray sends Bob a text, even though they're sitting five feet from each other on the bus. _party at tbs. u in?_

Bob texts back, _g?_.

_msi bus 2nite._

It's a rare day there's alcohol when they're on tour, what with Gerard, Mikey and Brian's sobriety being an issue. Ray, Frank, Bob and the techs tend to keep it to a minimum and they never drink on My Chem's bus, or come back wasted. But Mikey's off honeymooning with Alicia, Brian's not due to meet up with them again for another two days, and if Gerard is going to spend the night elsewhere, well...

_I'm in_, she replies.

*

It ends up being Bob, Ray, Matt and Dewees who head out over to Taking Back Sunday's bus for the party. Frank opts out since Jamia's traveling with them and they want to take advantage of the empty bus.

"We're going to fuck in all your bunks," Frank calls out as they walk away.

Bob turns around and glares at him while walking backwards. "Bitches get cut, Iero." She makes a slicing motion with her hand. "_Cut_."

Ray curls an arm across her midsection and spins her around in front of him as they walk. "Settle down, tough guy. Save your energy for drinking."

"They wouldn't really do that, right?" Bob asks, shifting to the side so that she's walking next to Ray. He leaves his arm around her waist, and she slings her own across his shoulders; their hips bump companionably as they walk. Up ahead, Matt and Dewees are having a good-natured punch fight, or something.

Ray snickers. "He was just trying to make you say 'bitches get cut' again. It's your new favorite threat and he thinks it's funny."

"It's supposed to be menacing." Ray makes a suspiciously condescending noise. Bob scowls at him. "What? I could totally cut a bitch, Toro."

"Absolutely," he agrees immediately. "And I'd pay money to see it because it'd be awesome and probably more than a little hot. But you'd never cut us and we know it."

The problem with bandmates is that they know you far too well, Bob decides. She yanks handful of Ray's hair. He yelps and gives her a wounded look, and Bob rubs at his scalp where she pulled.

Ray gives her a smug look. Bob huffs. "Oh, shut the fuck up."

*

Bob has a fifth of vodka tucked into a pocket on the side of her pantsleg and she breaks it out when they get to the bus. Adam Lazzara's drank with Bob before and knows how she works. He doesn't demand she add her vodka to the growing collection of alcohol on the table--where Ray, Matt and Dewees' various bottles end up--just gives her a cup and a can of soda.

"I hid the rest of the canned soda in my bunk for you," he tells her. "And if you want, you can hit up the beer cooler, too."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it." She does. It's always a pain in the ass to explain why she wants to keep her liquor on her person at all times and won't use mixers that have already been opened. Half the time she gets laughed at and told to lighten up, she's with cool people, no worries. Which, fuck that. Even with being on this tour for a few weeks, Bob only knows a quarter of the people on and around the bus, and she only trusts a couple of them implicitly.

"So, Gee and Lyn," Adam says when Bob's mixed her first drink and tucked her bottle back in her pocket. They're in the doorway leading back to the bunks, standing in each other's space in the crush of people on the bus.

"Yeah." Bob makes a face. "They're disgustingly _sweet_ together."

Adam laughs around the mouth of his beer bottle. "Give it up. You're not that much of a hard ass, Bob."

Bob narrows her eyes. "Bitches get cut, Lazzara."

"Wow," he says after blinking for a second, "that's apparently a lot more threatening when you're saying it to people who aren't in your band." Bob smirks, pleased that someone takes her seriously. "I take it back. You're a total hard ass." He puts his hand on the doorjamb just over Bob's head and leans in even closer. "It's pretty hot."

Bob wrinkles her nose. "You used to be smoother than this."

"And you hated it," Adam says immediately.

She did. She couldn't help it, really. Over the years she's developed a distrust of guys who make it a point to be smooth and charming. They always seem to be hiding something and it makes a nerve in Bob's spine twitch.

He shrugs and smiles hopefully. "I figured I'd try the direct approach this time."

Bob looks around. Ray has hardly gotten started with the drinking and he should be good on his own for a while; she's not all that concerned about Matt and Dewees because they watch out for each other when they drink together. She finishes the rest of her drink, then smiles at Adam and jerks her head towards the bunks. "Show me where the soda is."

Adam curls his hands around her waist and guides her there.

*

Ray is halfway to blitzed when Bob rejoins the party a while later, but not so much so that he doesn't notice her messy hair and swollen lips and smirk at her. Bob flips him off and mixes her third drink of the night, finishing the vodka off in the process because she's been making them strong.

"I'm fucking _gone_," Ray tells her, as though the bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and dopey grin don't give it away. He pushes over on the sofa and pulls Bob down next to him. She lands half on his lap because his coordination is shot to hell and half her drink sloshes over the top of her cup. "How about you?"

"Nicely buzzed." Bob slides off his thigh and waves to Mark O'Connell.

Ray puts his mouth by her ear and his drunken "whisper" almost deafens her. "You've got sex hair. Who'd you go off with?"

Knowing how exuberant Ray is when he drinks, if Bob actually tells him he'll, like, repeat it loudly, then announce it to the room excitedly, then find Adam and congratulate him, or something.

Fortunately, Bob's used to distracting drunk people in general, and Ray in particular. "How much have you had?"

"Like, six beers." His grin is blinding and oddly giddy. "My tolerance is shit anymore. Everyone's having sex but me."

Bob laughs at him. "Oh, please. It hasn't even been that long, you pussy."

"No, no, you don't understand, Bob. _Bob_. Frank's bunk is right under mine."

It's also right across from Bob's, so she gets it, she really does. It's part of the reason she took Adam up on his offer. Nothing like listening to people have sex to make you need some for yourself. It has to suck for Ray, since Krista isn't around. Bob's really glad she doesn't have someone she has to be faithful to on the road.

"And that's why I don't want a boyfriend," she says to Ray. She tugs at her ear, which is feeling hot now that the alcohol is hitting her system. "Not unless he was on tour, like, all the time. And that would be really annoying, not being able to get away from him, and the bunks are really tiny. So. No boyfriends."

Ray pats her leg. It's more of a series of heavy-handed smacks, and Bob supposes it's meant to be comforting. "You babble when you drink. It's really cute."

Bob wrinkles her nose. "I'm not _cute_, Toro."

"Cortez! Beer us, motherfucker!" Matt's leaning over the cooler and he waves a hand in acknowledgement. Ray turns to Bob and nods very seriously. "You are. It's okay, though. I won't tell anyone that."

"Tell anyone what?" Matt asks. He drops the beers in Bob and Ray's laps.

Ray cracks open his beer. "That Bob's cute."

Bob chugs the last of her vodka and Coke, then goes for her own beer.

*

By the end of the party Ray is about nine sheets to the wind and everything is making him absurdly and overwhelmingly happy. Bob is nowhere near as bad off. She's maintained a heavy buzz the whole night. She's feeling warm and happy, and the world is spinning a little bit around her, but other than that she's fine.

"Need some help with him?" Dewees asks, motioning at Ray.

Bob tightens her arm around Ray's waist and takes more of his weight. "Nah, I got him. Where's Matt?"

"Saying goodbye to that girl he hooked up with. I'll wait for him if you want to head back."

Bob's not sure how much longer she can prop Ray up, so she nods. "See you back there."

Once Ray's moving it's easier to keep him on his feet. He can't walk a straight line but Bob puts her back into it, steers him with her grip around his ribs, and gets them pointed in the direction of their bus.

"This was fun. Did you have fun, Bob?" Ray doesn't wait for an answer, just continues talking and talking. "I always feel bad that you can't drink a lot when we go out to things like this. We should have a house party after the tour. Me, and you, and Frank, and whoever else. At my place. You can go crazy and drink all you want."

"I'd be down for that."

"I think I'll call Krista when we get back to the bus." Bob pulls him to the left and only just manages to brace herself when he stumbles into her. "Because, I was thinking, and I need more phone sex. Daily phone sex. Starting immediately."

Bob laughs at him. "Dude, if you call Krista at this time of night, drunk off your ass, there won't be any phone sex. I can fucking guarantee that." Ray trips and slams them into the side of HIM's bus. Bob's really glad she's liquored up or else that might have stung a bit. "Steady, Ray."

Ray turns his head and smiles at her. "I'm steady, I'm rock steady, so steady. Who'd you hook up with?"

Matt and Dewees catch up with them then, because Bob and Ray are moving at a snail's pace. "I think it was O'Connell," Matt tells Ray. "They were all chummy in the corner for a while when you were outside."

She and Mark were talking about kits and sticks, actually, before he got one drink past maudlin and starting going on about his ex-girlfriend. Bob thinks she's lucky to have gotten away before the tears started.

Ray jerks around so suddenly that Bob almost falls. He looks very concerned. "No, Bob, no, not O'Connell. He's got that crazy ex, and she's still all, you know, territorial about him."

Dewees nods. "She tried to scratch some chick's eyes out one time. She's scary as fuck."

Ray comes to a sudden stop and frowns at Dewees. "Dude, Bob could take her." He sounds absurdly indignant; it's really adorable.

Bob nods because she totally could. "Bitches get cut," she says firmly, then drags Ray forward again because their bus is in sight.

Matt opens the door and helps her get Ray up the steps. Frank and Jamia are still awake, looking sex-wrecked and smug. Ray waves his arm around to encompass everyone in the room and says, quite cheerfully, "I fucking hate all of you _and_ your sex having."

Bob takes advantage of his distraction to tug his phone from his back pocket so that he won't actually call Krista.

Frank and Jamia stare at Ray like he's crazy. Matt snorts. "Ray's bitter because Bob got laid tonight." Before Frank can even ask, he adds, "We think it was O'Connell."

Frank's brow crinkles in surprised concern. "O'Connell? Really?"

"Doesn't he have that psycho ex?" Jamia asks.

Bob rolls her eyes. "I'm not fucking stupid, thanks. It wasn't him."

Ray tramples her foot in his effort to remain upright, and Bob props him against a wall. "I want the sex," he announces loudly and then slides to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Bob drops Ray's phone on Frank's lap and says, "Don't give it back to him until tomorrow. I'm going to sleep."

Ray grabs her pants leg as she passes him and gives a tug that almost sends Bob to the floor. "You're the best, Bob."

She grins down at him. "You're welcome."

*

The next day, Ray pokes a hand through Bob's bunk curtain mere minutes after she wakes up. He drops a bottle of water, some ibuprofen, and a microwavable heat pack that's already been warmed next to her hip.

Ray, the fucker, doesn't get hangovers, no matter how much he drinks. Bob, however, _always_ gets them lately, and she and Ray have an unspoken agreement in place about drinking together. Namely, she'll keep him from embarrassing himself too badly and also make sure he gets back to where they have to be, and Ray will supply her with what she needs to stop feeling like death on a stick.

Bob makes a miserable croaking noise. Ray peers through the gap in the curtain and smiles. "You're welcome." Then he wiggles his eyebrows. "It was Lazzara, wasn't it?"

Bob pulls the covers over her head and goes back to praying for death to come take her.

.End


End file.
